Wednesday, November 11, 2009

LET OUR VETERANS KNOW THEY'RE APPRECIATED

By Toney Atkins
(c) 2009

On Veterans Day 2004, my late father was surprised and amazed when he opened his front door to discover several members of the church that he frequently attended.

That might not seem to be particularly noteworthy, except for the fact that they were carrying red, white and blue balloons, food, goodies, a card and a cake emblazoned with the words, "Thank You."

What I've been told is that tears were rolling down his face as the church members entered the living room. Each person in the group thanked him for the service he gave to his country, fighting in the European Theater during World War II.

My father was quoted as saying, "No one has ever said that to me before."

That day meant a lot to Dad, and I was to look back on it a year later as a kind of omen that he would not live to see another Veterans Day -- but he had experienced a very special one. In a telephone conversation afterwards, he only recounted to me that the people had performed the very kind and wonderful act.

Others in his neighborhood expressed the same sentiment during his last year. Some encouraged him to share his wartime experiences with a local television station that was making video diaries of area veterans, but he declined. He was a humble man who told me that he didn't do anything special and that he didn't feel comfortable doing a TV interview.

I was born during the war when he was overseas. He earned several awards for marksmanship and a purple heart for injuries he suffered. However, for some still unknown reason, he never wanted to talk about the war with me, so his history that he chose to share with some people was never shared with his only son. I only knew that he suffered horrible nightmares and occasionally terrible back pain that worsened with age. Watching a movie about the Vietnam War rattled his nerves and nearly sent him into a major panic attack, he told me about 20 years after that evening at the theatre. I had not been aware that it affected him.

I tend to believe that after the aforementioned initial encounter with expressions of appreciation and gratitude, Dad opened up more about his experiences on the battlefield, especially in Germany, to some neighbors, church members, friends and even to the employees of the funeral home, where he made his burial arrangements. The folks who shared this information with me said that he was animated and excited when he told those stories, and that the listeners were always enthralled. I wish I had been among them.

When the wars in Afghanistan after 9/11 and then in Iraq began, not knowing what conditions the troops would face or their trials and tribulations, Dad often said sadly, "I feel sorry for those boys," perhaps reflecting upon the dramatic changes he experienced between leaving a small Georgia town to train for a war and then fight it and the time he returned to the U.S. with many memories of occasional unspeakable horror, the screams of the wounded and the silence of the dead and experiencing injury himself.

For the sacrifice made by my father and many other fathers, young unmarried men and some women made in serving in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Operation Desert Storm, Afghanistan and Iraq, it shouldn't take much effort on the part of the average citizen -- who may never have seen a battlefield or known the terribly dangerous blasts of bombs or the deadly sounds of gunfire from an enemy except in a movie -- to be grateful for those sacrifices that keep freedom ringing.

Based on my father's reaction several years ago, I would like to suggest that each of us who has a family member who is a veteran of any war, a neighbor or friend who has served, make a special point on this Veterans Day -- and on other days as well -- personally thank that veteran (and this includes the young and not-so-young soldiers of today) for his or her life, courage and sacrifice. You may never know how important that such a gesture could be and how much it would mean, not only to the veteran, but to you as well.

My father, Charlie Jackson Atkins, passed away on Aug. 22, 2005, his 84th birthday. I'm thankful for those who loved and appreciated him and told him so. I wish that I had known him better.

God bless our troops, and God bless the United States of America in these troubled times.